


Nail Polish Coda

by DaughterofElros



Series: Nail Polish [2]
Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:33:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaughterofElros/pseuds/DaughterofElros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Alec's turn....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nail Polish Coda

“There.” Magnus blew on his violet and silver sparkled fingernails one last time. “Completely Dry.”  Magnus look triumphantly at Alec. “You’re turn, Alexander.” Alec snorted and shook his head.

“No. No way. Nail polish is _your_ crazy idiosyncrasy, not mine.” He proclaimed. Magnus narrowed his eyes theatrically.

“I think you’d look splendid in blue. Or maybe green. Not black.” He wrinkled his nose. “You wear too much black already.”

“It’s a Shadowhunter thing!” Alec protested.

“Gear, maybe, but that hardly applies now.” Magnus raised one skeptical eyebrow as he looked Alec over from head to toe. He was wearing a black sweater and a pair a jeans so dark blue that they might as well have been black. He flushed, catching Magnus’s point and not really having any rebuttal.

“Gold maybe.” Magnus mused. “Gold would look amazing on you.”

Alec hesitated. Gold was the color of Shadowhunter weddings. Magnus might have been a Downworlder, but he’d been around for more than eight hundred years. He had to know that. The idea of gold and Magnus was something that he knew could never really happen- even if the Clave allowed two men to marry, Magnus was a Downworlder, and could never be Marked. So the idea of this, allowing Magnus to mark him in gold no matter how temporarily, was something he could not easily refuse. He knew from Magnus’s expression that his hesitation was all the acquiescence that was needed. Almost before he could blink, Magnus had snapped his fingers, causing a little golden bottle to appear out of thin air.

He set to work, and Alec sat patiently with Magnus on the floor before him, allowing his fingers to be stroked and painted and manipulated, telling himself that he barely noticed the little teasing strokes and touches of Magnus’s fingertips, and trying to convince himself that he was not getting turned on by having his fingernails painted. Not at all. He shifted slightly, uncertain whether he was trying to keep Magnus from noticing, or whether he wanted Magnus to notice. Just one more nail to go, he promised himself- just one more, and then he could claim sanity again.

“There. Finished.” Magnus said, screwing the cop back onto the bottle. “Now you need to let them dry. Spread your arms out across the back of the couch, palms down, and don’t move, you’ll smudge them.” Magnus instructed. Alec wondered if he was just going insane, or if Magnus had managed to make that innocuous statement sound lascivious. A second later, as Magnus stalked his way up Alec’s body to straddle his lap, Alec became certain that he was not, in fact, imagining things.

“No matter what happens, you have to keep your hands there until they dry.” Magnus told him in a darkly playful voice. “Do you understand?” Alec nodded almost imperceptibly. “Good.” Magnus breathed, and the wash of cool air against Alec’s ear sent shivers down his spine.

And then Magnus was kissing him gently, teasingly, feather-light kisses that made him yearn for more, begging for it with his body, his arched neck, the embarrassingly needy gasps that were already falling from his lips. He strained his body, trying to drawn closer to Magnus, to demand more from him, but the warlock was always a step ahead, dancing just on the periphery of contact. He could reach out, grab the other man, wrap his fingers in Magnus’s artfully draped scarf and perfectly coifed hair and drag him down again, crash their lips together as he’d done so many times before. But that would mean disobeying Magnus’s order, and for some reason, he was unable to do that. And so he obeyed, his palm glued to the back of the sofa, bound as surely with promises as if they had been bound with rope or chains. It made him want Magnus all the more, to be so close, so incredibly close and yet unable to touch. It made him desperate, hard, and needy.

“Please….Magnus… Need…” he managed to stutter out.

“What do you need, Baby?” Magnus asked. For once, Alec didn’t mind being called by pet names.

“You. More. Need you.” Alec managed to grind out desperately. Almost before he had finished speaking, Magnus growled and responded, plundering Alec’s mouth, sweeping his tongue across Alec’s lips and swallowing the cry of gratification that spilled from Alec’s throat. At the same time, he pressed himself into Alec’s lap, sliding their bodies sensuously together. Even through the layers of denim and wool, the sensation was exquisite torture. Alec rolled him hips up, pressing them closer together, and was gratified to note a hitch in Magnus’s breathing.

“Very naughty, Alexander,” Magnus whispered against his lips. Alec’s eyes flashed and he sank his teeth into Magnus’s lower lip, rosy and swollen from their kisses.

“My name, Magnus, is _Alec._ ” He reminded the warlock.

“That was very naughty indeed, Lover.” Magnus’s hand brushed a chunk of hair away from Alec’s face. “I was about to give you some relief, but I fear now that your release is going to have to wait. Punishment for impudence and all that.” He said lightly. Alec groaned, letting his head fall back on the sofa. Magnus was an exceptionally skilled tease. He was going to end up regretting that bite.

“Remember, Lover- don’t move those hands.” Magnus said, drawing the hem of the cashmere sweater up Alec’s torso, his fingers dancing lightly across the toned skin of his abs, tickling and teasing and sometimes darting up under the sweater to flick over Alec’s nipples and making the younger man tense with the sensation. He skimmed his fingertips along the waistband of Alec’s jeans, tantalizingly close to where Alec wanted him, but always flitting away again a moment later. Alec moaned in frustration. Taking pity on him, Magnus flicked open the button on the jeans and drew down the zipper, careful never to touch Alec’s supremely evident arousal, still concealed beneath black cotton boxer briefs.

Instead, he stood, stepped back out of reach and began undoing the buttons of his ridiculously loud silk shirt. Alec watched as the brightly pattered swirls fell away to reveal the blatant perfection of Magnus’s body; smooth skin stretched over lean, toned muscles, dusky flat nipples and delicately arched clavicles that Alec loved to trace and caress with his lips when they lay together in the bed on this sofa, or even on the floor, entwined in a post-coital embrace. But Magnus was far from done. He smirked, knowing what it was doing to Alec to sit there and watch but not touch as he popped open the button of salmon-pink trousers and slid his hand inside, fondling himself and stroking his own arousal. Alec licked his lips longingly, wishing that he were kneeling in front of Magnus right now, able to touch him and taste him, instead of sitting here, immobile on the sofa and watching the striptease. Although, he had to admit as Magnus shucked his trousers and underwear in one smooth motion, leaving himself gloriously naked with one hand wrapped around his arousal, teasing himself even as he teased Alec, that the view was not half bad.

“You’re pupils are blown wide, Alexander. I think you like what you see,” Magnus observed lazily.

“You know I do.” Alec’s tone was even, though only with great effort.

“Are you jealous of my hands, Alec? Do you want it to be your hands on me, touching me, marking me?

“ _Yes._ ” Alec was surprised by the vehemence of his own response. Magnus just grinned delightedly and stalked back to the sofa with the grace of a cat, dropping down between Alec’s knees once again and freeing him from the constriction of black cotton. Still though, the teasing continued as Magnus traced his finger down the lines where his hips met his body, drawing out Alec’s arousal but never giving him the touch, the pressure, the relief that he craved. Alec’s eyes closed and his head fell back as he tried to will himself not to beg, to hold out that bit of dignity.

His intentions were shattered a second later as he was engulfed in the incredible warm, wet heat of Magnus’s mouth. Suddenly then he was crying out to God, to the Angel, to Magnus for salvation. He was begging, a nonsensical mixture or _please yes ohGod more yes._ And then Magnus’s tongue- his incredible, talented, perfect tongue joined the party, swirling around him, caressing him, claiming him, and Alec wasn’t forming words any more, just unintelligible sounds of pleasure as he fell apart, his golden-painted fingertips pressing into the couch cushions.

He barely had a moment to recover before Magnus was there, crawling up his body to kiss him, to devour him, and Alec could taste himself on his lover’s tongue.

“You’re incredible, Alec Lightwood,” Magnus proclaimed. And then one of Magnus’s hands was gripping his, their fingers intertwined, and the other had grabbed Alec’s remaining hand and brought it to his arousal. Magnus thrust into the combined grip of their hands a few desperate times, lavender and gold  tipped fingers curling into each other, his lips crushed to Alec’s as his body shuddered and Alec drank down the cry of his release.

It was possible, Alec  decided, that he could become a fan of nail polish after all.


End file.
